


No Exit. (Did you truly want one?)

by youngjusticewriter



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Friends to enemies to friends and then lovers, I’m cleaning out my writing app, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Time Travel, Unfinished, an old piece of writing, and pinning, this was eventually going to be murder family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:49:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23669359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngjusticewriter/pseuds/youngjusticewriter
Summary: Will keeps his eyes close even as the footsteps draw nearer. It’s not fear nor a grudge despite what the doctor has done to him (You were suppose to be my paddle; you and I were suppose to be Abigail’s family.) that is the reason why Will keeps his eyes closed.(See? A dead man asks him as his blood pools the kitchen floor. Ten shots; that’s all it took.)Soft lips brush against his ear as Hannibal leans down to whisper to him.(Will had enjoyed it.)
Relationships: Will Graham & Abigail Hobbs, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	No Exit. (Did you truly want one?)

His eyelashes flutter open and close. The light in the dining-room is bright - too bright for him - and because of that Will only gets quick glimpses at the feast laid before him. It’s mouthwatering and that makes his stomach turn further. Tightly Will keeps his eyes closed as though taking away the sight of dinner will stop the nausea and the hunger he feels. Will knows people can’t completely control their bodies (A red eyed teenager who hadn’t care about his distaste of eyes in the time it took for her to fill out the report about the rape. After all these years, in which he’s forgotten her name, Will remembers how she asked with a trembling voice why she’d been aroused, wet had been the word she had used actually, during it.) yet that doesn’t stop the disgust he feels curling around him that threatens to overwhelm him. The legs of chair drag against the hard wood floor of the dining-room as Hannibal gets up. Will keeps his eyes close even as the footsteps draw nearer. It’s not fear nor a grudge despite what the doctor has done to him (You were suppose to be my paddle; you and I were suppose to be Abigail’s family.) that is the reason why Will keeps his eyes closed. 

(See? A dead man asks him as his blood pools the kitchen floor. Ten shots; that’s all it took.) 

Soft lips brush against his ear as Hannibal leans down to whisper to him. 

(Will had enjoyed it.) 

Yes, Will can see now; he’s swallowed the seeds, the meat, he had been tricked into eating. There’s no going back least completely after that. Yet Will cannot tell Jacob Hobbs that because dead men can not hear just as they can tell no lies or secrets. 

“Is the meal not adequate, Will?” Concern laces Hannibal’s soft tone as though he does indeed care for what Will thinks. As though Will’s opinion matters and Will fights the abrupt urge to urge to open his mouth and scream (for where was his concern, his caring, when he murdered Abigail and framed Will for it) but doing so means acknowledging Hannibal. His ears are covered, Will lies unto himself so not to hear lies or painful words of the others’ disbelief at his innocence and accusation of Hannibal’s credibility. His mouth is clamped shut, teeth pressed so hard against themselves they creak under the weight, so not to be violated anymore. His eyes are closed so not to acknowledge Hannibal. Will can see now. He needs nothing from the doctor and that is the only thing Will can inflict upon Hannibal who does not care for him (for them) but must have felt enjoyment at the situation that had befallen upon him. 

As Wills sits in the wooden chair (it’s uncomfortable unlike any of the furniture in Hannibal’s office) he starts to feel something familiar. A wet noise of a dog pressing into his face and it makes Will’s eyebrows pull into each other. Despite the whimpers it lets out Will keeps his eyes closed. There’s no way Hannibal would allow one of Will’s dogs into his home much less on his table (because Will doesn’t feel any paws pressed into his jeans so the dog could reach him). This was a trick, a dream, or something else. It can’t be a hallucination though. Will knew he had been been treated for his encephalitis even though he really didn’t remember it. Suddenly loud and instinct beeping fills the room. It sounded like an alarm clock - no, Will realizes, it was an alarm clock. His damn alarm clock actually. Without thought Will opens his eyes because why is his alarm clock in his prison cell? His eye lashes flutter close to the sight of his living room because the light coming from the open curtains (a mistake apparently). An cold nose nudges into the skin of his face and Will smiles despite the sad turn his dream had taken. Eyes still closed Will reaches out a hand to touch one of his dogs. His fingers drag softly against the long coat of soft fur. It’s Kelsy not Winston on him. The border collie had a softer coat than what Winston had while Coraline (a bichon frisé mixed with something else) had a soft coat as well it was curly and short. Kelsy lifts the back of her back to encourage him to scratch it and Will does with a soft smile. (Don’t wake me up.) 

Eventually Will is able to open his eyes and keep them opened. There are his dogs on their beds below him expect Winston. Immediately his eyes flicker to the door but Winston isn’t there to tell him he needs to go out It’s then when his eyes flicker back down below him that Will notices that Winston’s dog bed isn’t there in the pile with the rest. 

He stops scratching Kelsy. 

With soft words Will gets her to get off him. This is dream Will knows yet still his eyebrows knit together on why Winston isn’t here. Will loves all his dogs (even the cute ones he gave away to other homes) but he admittedly had a soft spot for Winston. They had found each other when everything had started and, unlike Hannibal, Winston had never betrayed him. Alana had been right all those months ago: dogs keep a promise a person can’t. It was rude, which was why Alana had not wished to say it at first, but it was the truth. The truth, Will had come to learn, was often ugly unlike lies. 

As Will lays on his back, eyes staring at the worn white ceiling, he can’t help but wonder when he’ll wake up. Yes, he quite liked this dream despite it being bitter sweet (it’s sweeter than his reality) yet... It’s the not knowing of when it will be yanked out from him that makes Will wish it to be over, to wake up now. One of his dogs whining brings Will out of his head. It’s Coraline by his door. It’s that, his dogs needing something, that gets Will out of bed despite the heaviness he feels. Once he gets up the rest of them follow to the door. It’s only Caroline who stretches her front legs on him for attention as Will fumbles at unlocking the door. She was the newest before Winston. Shoes forgotten, or rather neglected, Will walks out onto the porch while his dogs run out before scattering across the front yard. He stands on his porch with just a damp shirt and underwear. The fall weather is a bit chilly in the morning but it’s nice. Will has no neighbors anywhere near him thankfully so he could do this and because this was a dream he didn’t have to worry about being called out on a case or class though admittedly the later had been less frequent in the last months before his arrest because of Jack’s interruptions. Because it hasn’t rained last night Will doesn’t have to worry about grabbing a towel to wipe off any paws. With a whistle Will calls them back inside the house so he can start on making coffee. It’s more routine than requirement. Will honestly doesn’t know what to do since he hasn’t woken up yet. When Will is ready to go back in, he whistles and the  
dogs tread behind him like ducks and when the last one, Kevin, comes in Will locks the door behind them all despite this being a dream. A small frown mares his face as he heads off to the kitchen by himself (the dogs know by now Will makes coffee before he cooks their food). He would change the locks since Hannibal has the key if this was real. Not that, Will admits in his mind as he measures the second scoop of coffee grains, it would probably stop Hannibal from somehow breaking in if he was determined. 

Worn fingers drum against the scratched table as the pot of coffee is slowly filled. Will isn’t impatient at it as much as he was at the fact he wasn’t walking up. Maybe Chilton had overdosed him and Will was sleeping longer than usual. Barney would notice but that didn’t mean he could do much if Chilton interfered for some reason that would only make sense in the doctor’s head. He couldn’t be in a coma, Will thought as he got up to grab a mug. Coma patients never showed signs of dreaming unless they were in a hypnagogic state. A coma might be a kinder fate for him than being under Chilton’s care but it wasn’t just about Will. It wasn’t just his fate at risk. Yes, Hannibal had a fondness for Alana but months before Will had thought Hannibal had cared for Abigail (for him). There was line that couldn’t be crossed. Because from what Abigail had unwilling taught him was bonding with Hannibal wasn’t enough if you became inconvenient. Will didn’t know what was worse: no one believing him about Hannibal or someone one day realizing he was telling the truth and - 

“Shit,” Will curses at the heat of the coffee he’s just spilt on himself and the mug falls in the air before shattering into pieces once it hits the floor of his kitchen. Of course the phone starts to ring as Will runs to grab a towel and then the broom. He doesn’t answer the first time they call because he’s busy sweeping up the pieces of his coffee cup and damn it. Yes, this was a dream but the cup had been gift from his late father and - 

He feels like he’s overheating despite having just got back inside from walking his dogs. It’s his frustration that makes him feel like this, Will knows but knowing something doesn’t mean you just stop feeling it. 

The shrill, grating ringing of the phone continues. 

(Hell is other people, don’t you know?)


End file.
